I didn't know what to write about this week. I never plan these posts. There are a myriad different sites out there designed to help plan a blog, and a while ago I tried doing just that. I sat down, opened Excel, which I don't really know how to use, and immediately got an incomprehensible message about unable to save spreadsheet in xyz format in abc location.
So I went back to pen and paper. And then I came home, put the notebook down somewhere, and by the time I picked it up a week later, found it full of lists like this:
Milk, blueberries, pizza, fabric conditioner, etc, etc.
Not knowing what to write, worries me. Along with something else, it keeps me awake at night. And thinking about this, as I made coffee and settled down in front of the screen, led me into this week's post.
(Which isn't a blog.)
I've always described these posts, as a letter from a friend. So, come closer and I'll tell you what has me staring at the ceiling at three am, my heart racing, a very real tightness in my chest - because when your mind is unsettled, three am can be the meanest girl in the class. It can, and often is, a merciless magnifying glass. Everything seems huge and bleak. All the bad news of the world gathers itself into a tornado that won't stop whirling. And when your children are no longer tucked into beds at the other end of the hallway, when you're separated from family by oceans and mountains, the worry is too intense to see the clear skies on the other side.
I have the Calm app on my phone, and when sleep alludes me, I've been listening to bilateral music. You wear headphones, as the sound alternates between the left and right speakers. It's supposed to reduce stress, promote a 'distancing' effect from problems and increase attentional flexibility, that enables you to become less 'stuck' on the problem. You know what? Every time I've listened to this music, I've woken up hours later with a sore ear, but a very calm mind. Now if only someone can invent sponge earphones, I'll be set.
I have red wine on my kitchen bench, and chamomile tea in my kitchen cupboard. A little of either, also works.
I have Yellowstone, on Netflix, which has become so predicable ... it works.
And that’s all good, because what's keeping me awake at night is the fact that four weeks from today, and after thirteen years, I'm moving myself and my son back to my home country.
I should be delighted, right?
Relived?
Light of heart and optimistic.
Well at times I am. (And here I want to tell you about an amazing book I read a few years ago which, in small but powerful ways, has altered the way I think. It helped me understand the bio-mechanics going on underneath the surface of the skin. Processes that all the mindfulness in the world can't switch off. And understanding this, I've learned to a) not judge myself so harshly when a low mood coincides with a dark winter afternoon and b) slow down and dig into those moments of joy, when the axis of the earth tips towards spring again, and I can tilt my face to the sun. The book is called, Chasing the Sun by Linda Geddes.)
But let's get back to three am.
Right now there are so many thoughts, the minutiae of which I won't bore you with, but all of which can be boiled down to: Am I doing the right thing?
If I was twenty, I wouldn't be thinking like this.
It's age that teaches us caution. We know that things can go wrong. That chances don't come around a second time. I've written about this before, the ways in which we shrink. How our worlds become smaller. It was the first post I ever wrote, actually and you can read it here.
Do you doubt me?
Look in the mirror.
When is the last time you drastically changed your hair? And I mean drastically? Long, to short. Straight, to curly (and yes, you can still buy home perms kits. I'll send my 86 yr. old mum round to help. She permed her hair in 1975 … and it all fell out. She had to wear a wig for weeks - and please do remember we’re talking about a backwater rural town where the choice of artificial hair was limited to a Dame Edna Everage model, or a toupee.)
Seriously though ...
I mention hair, because every time I make an appointment for a BIG change, I start looking in the mirror and thinking, well it doesn't look so bad, in fact I quite like it the way it is, and this is because - change is hard. And humans don't like hard.
Do you know what percentage of people take the stairs when an escaltor is available ?
Google it.
Or don't.
It's 98 % according to one study. (The only conclusion I can come to here, is that I'm a masochist. Years ago, I routinely took the 193 stairs at Covent Garden tube station, rather than take the elevator. Every day. Up and down. I could pass this off as the foolishness of youth, were it not for the fact that on holiday thirty years later, rather than take the clifftop bus ride, I routinely took the 600+ stairs up and down an Italian mountain.
Am I that special?
In that 2% ?
I don't think it's as simple as that. Changes I have found manageable, others haven't. And vice versa. And I can't come to any more definite conclusion than that. I am sure however that much of the Great Battle of Indecision takes place internally, and battlefields are scarred places.
So the point of this post is, be good to yourselves. Stick some headphones in, sip a Merlot, or a herbal tea and watch Kevin Costner trotting around, against the magnificent backdrop of the Rockie mountains. Fall asleep dreaming of cowboys, ready to tackle the changes you know are coming, at a kinder hour.
Until next time,
Cary,
My solution to all this inner apprehension is tea, tea and more tea.. Prepare to be surprised by Britain's austerity state post Brexit...you will need to stay strong and upbeat.
Thanks for a new thing I can try on Calm, because the sleep meditations are not doing it. What you say about how changes are different now--I really feel that. Much harder to recover from at this stage, if you make a choice that doesn't work out as you hoped. Sending best wishes for your move, meaning I hope it brings you things you need and want. Eventually, if not right away.